


The Doctor's Secret

by aka_noodle



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Asexual Sherlock Holmes, Bisexual John Watson, Canon Compliant, Multi, Murder Mystery, POV First Person, Secret Relationship, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Sherlock Holmes, Unrequited Love, unsafe binding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-11-27 15:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20950325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aka_noodle/pseuds/aka_noodle
Summary: When Watson receives a letter from an old friend telling him a fellow doctor is in danger, he and Holmes step in to help. Two women have been found dead in as many months and the only thing connecting them is Dr James Labey. Will Holmes and Watson be able to find the killer before Labey is arrested, or worse, another of his patients is killed? And what is Labey hiding from them?





	The Doctor's Secret

**Author's Note:**

> A queer Sherlock Holmes pastiche originally written for an anthology. I tried to capture the feel of the original Holmes stories but also make it really really queer.
> 
> Cross-posted on my Wattpad.

I record this tale not for the sake of readers as I fear certain revelations herein could compromise the careers and in fact the lives of certain individuals should it ever be published. Therefore I shall take this as an opportunity to present a more honest perspective than I usually allow myself.

These events occurred in the winter of 1885. A cold but not entirely miserable winter by most accounts. I had received a letter from an old friend of mine; he was, since I have committed myself to being completely candid, my former lover. Our correspondence though infrequent had been a regular occurrence in my life for some years at that point. That is to say, I was neither surprised nor concerned at the arrival of the letter. What was cause for both however were its contents.

I sat in the parlour of the apartment I shared with one Sherlock Holmes. It was evening: the curtains were drawn, the fire burning. My companion sat opposite me, in one hand he held a lit cigar and in the other a book which he seemed to be thoroughly engrossed in. I took out the letter, looking forward to reading of the recent events in the life of a man I had at one point been quite close too - I had been busy that day and had not had time to read it until then. When I reached the end of the page my good mood was gone.

I set the letter down carefully. I coughed loudly. Holmes seemed not to notice - no, that was false; Holmes noticed everything, it was what he did. Holmes  _ pretended  _ not to notice.

‘Holmes?’ I said.

‘Hmm?’ he responded, not looking up from his book.

‘I have received a letter,’ said I.

‘I noticed,’ said he.

‘From an old friend of mine,’ I continued.

‘That’s nice.’

‘It concerns you.’

This time he looked up but still did not set his book aside.

I did not give him the letter itself, sure the mundane affairs my former companion had decided to include alongside his query would be of no interest to the detective. Instead I undertook to explain the contents myself.

‘You know of the city of Bath? In the south west,’ I did not pause for his answer, I knew he would know it, ‘There is a man there, a doctor, who has found himself in some trouble. He is a friend of my own good friend who hopes I may be able to help.’

‘I assume that is where I come in,’ said Holmes.

I nodded my confirmation, ‘A murder has taken place. Two in fact,’ now Holmes set his book aside, ‘They think this man, Dr Labey, has some connection to it. My friend is of course aware of our relationship and had hoped we could clear Labey’s name.’

Holmes looked into the fire and did not speak. He drew a long puff of his cigar. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking but I had picked up a thing or two since I had first begun to live at 221b Baker Street and I could observe from the way he rolled his cigar between his fingers and the slight movement of his leg as he subtly tapped his foot that he was in fact deep in thought.

After several long moments of appearing unconscious to the world, Holmes looked back at me.

‘And how,’ he asked slowly, deliberately, his voice soft, ‘Do we know this Dr Labey is not responsible?’

I felt some indignation at the question but put my feelings to one side. Holmes, being a man of logic, asked what he needed to know, the feelings of those involved did not factor into it. (Though perhaps, I let myself hope for just a moment, if he knew of mine and my old friend’s previous relationship, some jealousy might factor into his coldness. I quickly dismissed this thought.)

I considered my answer.

‘I trust my friend’s judgements,’ I said finally feeling wholly inadequate.

‘Very well,’ said he, ‘You trust his judgement and I trust yours. We will leave for Bath in the morning.’

With that he took another long puff of his cigar and picked up his book once again. We did not talk for the rest of the evening. This did not bother me, my mind was more than preoccupied with thoughts of our upcoming trip.

* * *

HOLMES and I arrived in Bath by train the next afternoon. After a brief lunch from a local bakery, conveniently positioned just across the street from the station, we set out to Dr Labey’s clinic following the directions my friend had set out in his letter.

We found ourselves on a quiet street just outside the town centre in an area made up more of residences than businesses. The clinic itself was a terraced building, tall and thin, appearing squashed between the houses on either side of it. It was built of local materials: Bath stone which caused the walls to be a warm honey colour beneath the grime that covered the lower levels, a black door with peeling paint was set into the front of the building. A number of windows on the upper levels were bricked up and there was a stairway next to the front door leading down to a basement beneath the street. A bronze panel, itself covered with a layer of grime, was attached on one side of the door engraved with the following:

“DR. J LABEY. PHYSICIAN.”

We had come to the right place.

There were only a few moments for us to take in the building before the door burst open. A young woman in an apron and nurse’s bonnet carrying a bucket did not look in our direction as she walked to the edge of the pavement and slung its contents onto the cobbled road. I did not look to see what was inside it. She turned to go back into the clinic and this time she did glance our way. She had a round face, thin dark brown eyes and skin just one shade of brown lighter, a few ringlets of curled dark hair had broken free of her bonnet and fell across her face.

The nurse eyed us suspiciously until Holmes stepped forward.

‘Excuse me Miss, my companion and I are here to see a Doctor Labey.’

Her nose scrunched up when she frowned. ‘It’s  _ Mrs _ . And who are you and your companion?’

‘A new patient, Madame,’ he replied without hesitation.

The nurse’s eyes glanced over the two of us. ‘That’s odd,’ she said, ‘I did not think Dr Labey was seeing any male patients at the moment.’ She said she “thought” but the steely expression on her face as she stared Holmes down made it clear there was no question about it. And so we learnt something of Dr Labey, something my friend had neglected to mention; he, at least currently, only saw female patients.

‘Well it was worth a try,’ said Holmes, ever calm and confident where I did not know how to respond, ‘My name is Mister Sherlock Holmes and this is my companion Dr Watson. We are here to see Dr Labey about the recent murders that he has been connected to.’

An odd expression flickered across the nurse’s face. I did not have time to recognise it before it was gone.

‘Very well,’ she said in a deliberately neutral tone, ‘You should come in.’

We followed her through the big front door, down a sparsely decorated hallway and into a waiting room at the front of the building which had evidently been used as a sitting room in times gone by.

‘Dr Labey is with a patient right now. I shall let him know you are here. Take a seat,’ the nurse gestured to two benches against the walls of the waiting room then left before either of us could respond.

I sat. Holmes did not.

I watched as he looked around the room, meticulously scrutinizing every detail I had missed in my brief perusal of our surroundings. He did not seem inclined to tell me what, if anything, he noticed but I felt secure in the knowledge that if there was anything I needed to know he would inform me in his own time.

We had not been waiting long when we heard voices from outside the room. Through the open doorway I could see two men; one who looked to be in his early forties with a handsome moustache and a frown on his round face, the other who looked barely old enough to be called a man was clean shaven with a pair of spectacles perched on the end on his pointed nose. He hardly acknowledged the older man, instead preoccupied with the young woman who stood between them, a girl with a pretty face wearing a modest dress with her hair tucked into a plain bonnet, and one arm resting across her middle.

‘I won’t have it,’ I heard the first man say, causing the other to finally look up at him, ‘If what they are saying is true,’ he pointed a thick, pink finger at the younger man, ‘I do not intend to insult you doctor, but if what they are saying is true and you are somehow involved, well I’ll not risk my Sally. We’ll go elsewhere!’

The young man took a step back and adjusted his spectacles. I could see his head moving as he spoke but he was facing away from us and his voice was too soft to hear a word.

After a few moments of the young man apparently attempting to pacify the other, the nurse we’d met previously walked past the doorway casting a brief look in on us as she did. There was the sound of the front door opening and the older man turned to leave, leading the young woman out.

The nurse came back into view and said something to the young man in a hushed voice. He turned to face the waiting room and looked between Holmes and I, who had while all this was happening taken a seat on the bench opposite me, before approaching. He looked a man who could have been handsome if he were in better health but his face was pale and even with his spectacles I could clearly see the dark circles around his sunken eyes. I found myself wondering if he was not a patient.

‘Gentlemen,’ his voice was high and soft, like his face it was more like that of a boy than a man, ‘Luetta tells me that you are here to speak with me.’

I was taken aback. Was this youth really Dr Labey? But then the man had called him “doctor” before. Perhaps it was not so absurd; after all he was not the first person I had met who looked considerably younger than they actually were.

‘Doctor Labey, I presume,’ Holmes rose to shake Labey’s hand, ‘My name is Sherlock Holmes.’

‘Yes, Luetta told me who you are.’ Labey turned to me, ‘And you must be Doctor Watson, I have heard a little about you. I believe we have a mutual acquaintance?’

I nodded and stood much less gracefully than Holmes had, leaning heavily on my cane, and held out my hand for Labey to shake. He looked again between the two of us as if trying to make a decision. Finally he spoke again, ‘Luetta tells me you are here about the murders. I shall tell you what I have told everybody else: I have nothing to do with what happened to those young women.’

‘So we understand,’ Holmes replied. Labey looked perplexed. ‘I assume,’ my companion continued, ‘Dr Watson’s friend did not tell you why we were coming.’

Labey did not respond. I took this as an opportunity to step in.

‘Our mutual friend told me you were in some amount of trouble. He asked us to help you; to clear your name,’ I clarified.

He reached up to adjust his spectacles then looked from me to Holmes a final time. ‘Then that is a different matter. I think it would perhaps be better to discuss this in my private apartment where we shall not be overheard. I shall ask Luetta to bring us some tea.’

* * *

LABEY’S apartment was a few rooms directly above the clinic on the top floor aside from the attic. The sitting room was decorated simply with plain painted walls and few hangings. In the centre of the room were an armchair and a threadbare couch with a low table between them. Labey gestured to the couch as we entered and we both took our seats. He went to the single window at the front of the room and glanced out at the street below before pulling the curtains shut. The behaviour might have seemed suspicious under other circumstances but knowing the topic we were there to discuss it was a less odd, if overly cautious, act.

There was a knock at the door then the nurse, Luetta, stepped in carrying a tray of tea. She set it down on the table and went to the door, briefly holding eye contact with the doctor before she left the room.

When Luetta had gone, Labey came to join us, sitting on the armchair opposite us. I did my best to shift my gaze to the furnishings and look as though I had not just been watching his every move. I noticed Holmes made no such effort.

We sat in uncomfortable silence while Labey poured out three cups of tea for us, hardly looking at us as he did.

Finally there was nothing else for Labey to. ‘What exactly do you need to know?’ he asked.

Holmes took a sip of his tea. ‘Tell us exactly what has gone on. We have already been informed of the basics but I would like to hear it from you.’

Labey nodded and took a sip of his own tea. He immediately pulled the cup away, frowning, the freshly poured tea apparently too hot for him. He adjusted his spectacles, a nervous tic, then began his tale.

‘I am sure you are aware the women were both patients of mine. Their names were Greta Mahon and Eleanore Lamb. I do not think they ever met but I treated them both. All my patients are very fond of me and the deceased were no exception; I say this not out of arrogance but because it is fact and you need to know the facts.

‘They both died separately, in different places and on different nights. I am afraid, for the sake of your investigation, that I know very little about that part. The newspaper said that their throats were cut and their bodies were left in the street, both but a short distance from my clinic.’

At this point Labey stopped speaking and looked away. I did not say anything even when he pulled out his handkerchief. After a few moments Holmes coughed rather unsubtly and Labey turned back to us.

‘My apologies gentlemen. As I said, I was close to both Eleanore and Greta.’

‘Do you often call your patients by their first names?’

Labey blinked, ‘Only those I am close to Mr Holmes.’

Holmes nodded and took another sip of his tea. ‘Pray continue.’

‘I have been informed that in their investigation the police have found no other connection between the two women apart from their both being patients at my clinic. This had led them to believe that I- That I was somehow involved in their deaths.’

‘They think that you are a killer Dr Labey.’ Holmes cut straight to the point.

‘We need to know an information you have, including anything else that could connect you to these murders.’

Labey’s face grew a shade paler, something I had previously not thought possible.

‘Rest assured, we do not currently suspect you doctor but if you are the only connection between these women it stands to reason that whoever did kill them may have done so because of this connection.’

I looked at Holmes, sitting calmly with his tea. I had not considered that possibility.

‘There are some people,’ Labey took a sip of his tea. ‘There are some people who do not like the amount of praise I receive from my patients. My rivals. Some of my patients’ husbands. Though I would not think any of them capable of something like this.’

‘Perhaps you have misread them,’ said Holmes, ‘I have known men to commit murder over less.’

Labey did not respond, instead staring down at his mug. Finally as I wondered what I could say to ease the tension in the room he spoke again; ‘I must apologise gentlemen. I do appreciate you being here. I realise I was unwelcoming when you first arrived but you must understand, it would not be the first time I have been harassed over this.’

I frowned. My friend had not mentioned this part in his letter. Holmes’ expression did not change but I knew him well enough to know when he was in thought.

‘Have you gone to the police?’ I asked.

Labey shook his head as he answered, ‘The police are of no help in fact they are the worst of it. They think me responsible but do not have the evidence to prove it so instead they choose to harass me.’

I did not know what to say. Neither it seemed did Labey. He looked into his tea as if the answer to his problems would somehow be found at the bottom of the cup. Maybe he did believe that, I’d heard of men believing stranger things.

It was as I was thinking this that Holmes made his move. He reached across the table and took a sugar cube from the bowl on the table. I barely had time to think about the fact that Holmes did not usually take sugar with his tea before he pulled back his arm, knocking over my own tea cup, which had until then sat in its original position on the table, and spilling tea all over me.

I stood hastily and Labey looked up in surprise.

Thankfully the tea had cooled enough that it was not painful, though now I could feel it soaking the fabric of my suit against my skin.

‘My apologies,’ Holmes said, calmly stirring the sugar into his tea.

Labey looked between us, evidently in shock, before slipping into the role of the proper host.

‘This is quite a mess. There are facilities where you can try to clean up in my bedroom, Doctor,’ he gestured to a door just behind him, ‘Though I am afraid I cannot lend you any clothes, I do not think I have anything that would fit you.’ It was true we had very different builds, Labey was much shorter and slighter than I or most men.

‘That is quite alright, Dr Labey,’ I glanced to Holmes who took another sip of his tea then pulled back and frowned at the drink as if it had personally offended him, likely due to the sweetness of the sugar - it served him right, I thought to myself. ‘I shall be back shortly.’

Labey retook his seat. I walked around his chair to go to the door. As I was about to leave the room I met eyes with Holmes. He held my gaze which took me by surprise; Holmes did not generally make eye contact, in fact he abhorred it. This meant something, but what?

He looked away and the moment was gone. I crossed into the other room, wondering what it was Holmes expected of me.

The door fell shut behind me and I took in the room I had entered. It was smaller than Labey’s sitting room and even more sparsely furnished. There was a double bed in one corner, a small bookcase only half full next to the bed, and a dresser pressed up against the opposite wall with a jug and basin on top.

I crossed the room to the dresser and realised I was alone. Alone in Labey’s private rooms. Of course! Holmes did very little without reason. He had given me the opportunity to investigate. I only wondered why he did not do this himself.

I stopped and turned before reaching the dresser and looked around once more, this time trying to take in the room as Holmes himself might. I looked for anything out of place or anything that might tell me more about Labey. I crossed to the bookshelves. I was a little surprised at how few books the man seemed to have in his rooms; a practicing physician should be well read after all, though perhaps he kept his books elsewhere. The bed was neatly made and barely looked slept in. With nothing else to observe I went back to the dresser. It did not seem to be anything unusual. I poured some water into the basin and reached for a cloth to try to clean my suit. Like the rest of Labey’s things there was very little to look at: a few cloths for washing oneself, a shaving kit, and a small bottle of what looked to be some kind of cologne. As I attempted to clean myself (I was now sure it would stain) I found myself looking again at the shaving kit. It looked unused but it might be new. I set the cloth down and took a closer look. A thin layer of dust coated everything; not new, sitting on the dresser for some time completely unused. Put there for appearances I imagined.

I finished with my admittedly poor attempt to clean my suit and stepped back out. When I did Labey was gone and Holmes was alone in the sitting room, standing near the window with a thoughtful expression.

‘Labey was called away,’ he said when I approached, ‘All done?’

‘It’ll stain,’ I told him.

‘My apologies.’ He did not look sorry.

* * *

WE waited until we arrived at our hotel that evening before discussing the events of the day, conscious of the possibility of being overheard by the wrong people.

‘What are your thoughts?’ Holmes asked me as we settled in for the night.

I took my time unpacking my things while I thought about my answer. ‘I am not as certain of my friend’s judgement as I was.’

He watched me in silence, waiting for me to explain.

‘I think Dr Labey is lying to us.’

He took a moment to begin to prepare for bed before asking ‘What makes you think that?’

I described to Holmes what I had seen in Labey’s room. ‘I was not sure until I saw the shaving kit but I do not think Dr Labey really lives there.’

Holmes appeared to be thinking on this as he began to undress. ‘The state of his room and his suspicious behaviour do seem to indicate Labey is not being entirely honest with us, however the conclusion you have drawn is not necessarily the only explanation.’

I averted my gaze as he removed his chest bindings. Holmes had attempted to explain to me before why he need to wear them, not just to pass as an ordinary man in public - though “ordinary” was a relative term when it came to Sherlock Holmes - but also as they were essential for his personal comfort and peace of mind. I had expressed my concern for his health from wearing his bindings near constantly more than once but, as with all things, Holmes would do as he would. ‘You still think we can trust him?’ I asked.

‘I think we should be open to all possibilities until we have more data.’

I felt I had to agree.

* * *

WE returned to the clinic the next day. Once again we were greeted by the nurse Luetta. She did not invite us in.

‘Dr Labey is with a patient at the moment. You can come back to speak to him later.’

‘I had assumed Dr Labey had told you why we are here,’ said Holmes.

She did not waver. Apparently it was not an assumption of our purpose that cause her animosity towards us. ‘He did. But he is unavailable right now and his patients are his main priority.’

‘We do not need to speak to Dr Labey himself. But we do need access to the clinic.’

Luetta’s brow furrowed in a frown but she conceded, opening the door fully for us.

‘I do not know what you expect to do.’

I turned to Holmes, waiting for his answer. I could think of few things we could do in the clinic during the day when Labey was working and did not know what Holmes had in mind.

‘To begin with I would like to speak to you.’

From the expression of her face it was clear that Luetta had been expecting that as much as I.

‘If you don’t mind.’

‘Alright,’ she said, ‘There is an empty office where we can talk although I don’t know how much help I can be to your investigation.’

She led us down the hall to a small office. Similar to the rest of the clinic it was plainly decorated and simply furnished. There was a desk in the centre of the room with chairs on either side of it and a bench pressed up against one wall. Holmes took a seat in front of the desk.

Luetta stood near the door, she crossed her arms and looked from Holmes to me then shook her head and went to sit on the other side of the desk opposite Holmes. I elected to sit on the bench where I could comfortably observe the conversation about to take place.

‘Tell me about Dr Labey,’ Holmes began.

‘What is it you want to know?’ Luetta shot back, ‘You cannot possibly expect me to tell you everything about a man in what little time I have to spare.’

‘What do you think of him as a person? What is your relationship with him exactly?’

Luetta’s face did not change but this time she had an answer for Holmes.

‘I think Dr Labey is a talented doctor and a good man. He is good with his patients and always takes good care of them. As for my relationship with him; I am his nurse, he is my employer. Sometimes I also see to his household and the management of his staff but only because he is so busy with his patients.’

‘And nothing more?’

‘No. Nothing more.’

‘And how did you come to be in his employ?’

Luetta looked away but when she spoke her voice was steady. ‘Three years ago Mr Bunan, my husband, passed. I was left with a small child and little else. Dr Labey had treated my son when he was sick in his infancy and when he heard of our situation he offered me a job.

‘I owe him a debt. He saved me from poverty and was there for me when I was at my lowest’

‘You say you owe him?’ Holmes repeated, ‘What would you be willing to do for this man whom you owe so much to?’

‘Mr Holmes I do not know what you are-’ She was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.

She stood. ‘I you will excuse me gentlemen, I have a job to do.’

Holmes stood and I followed his lead. We reached the entranceway just as two people were entering. I recognised them immediately: the middle aged man with the moustache and the young woman we had seen Labey talking to the day before.

‘We need to speak to Dr Labey immediately,’ the man was saying, clearly agitated.

‘I’m sorry sir but he is with a patient so you will have to wait.’

‘Please Mrs Bunan. It really is an emergency,’ the woman pleaded, her hand resting on her belly.

‘As I said, Dr Labey is busy,’ Luetta’s voice softened at the woman’s plea, ‘Is there anything I could do to help in the meantime?’

‘It’s the baby. He’s not well, I just know it!’ the woman took Luetta’s hand, not seeming to notice the deepening frown on the man’s face.

‘It will be alright, Mrs Gleeson. Why don’t you come with me into the office and I will see how I can help?’ She looked to the man. He nodded and she led the young woman away, past us, into the office we three had just left. As she did so the man who had arrived with Mrs Gleeson noticed us.

He walked down the hallway towards us and Holmes and I approached to meet him halfway.

‘I was not expecting to see you again,’ said Holmes.

‘I am afraid I do not recall us meeting.’

‘We have not! I saw you leaving when I came to speak with Dr Labey yesterday.’

‘Why were you meeting with Dr Labey?’ the man asked.

‘I am investigator, here with my companion. We are looking into the recent deaths that have been connected to Dr Labey’s practice.’

‘I see,’ the man said. He did not expand on that thought.

I glanced behind us to the office where Luetta had taken Mrs Gleeson. ‘Is she alright?’ I could not help but ask.

Both men turned to look at me.

‘I’m sure they are,’ said the man, ‘but Sally doesn’t seem to think so and she wouldn’t let up until I brought her back here.’

‘Sally?’

‘Mrs Gleeson, my wife. Mister Gregory Gleeson,’ the man introduced himself, holding out his hand for each of us to shake.

‘We overheard your conversation with Dr Labey yesterday afternoon,’ said Holmes.

‘Yes, Well, I had to say something. With everything we’ve heard about Dr Labey I cannot put my Sally at risk.’

‘And yet you are back?’

‘Like I said, Sally insisted. She refuses to believe the rumours about Labey.’

‘Would you mind if I asked you a few questions about Labey?’

The man chuckled a wheezy laugh, ‘I thought you already were.’

Holmes forced a smile and continued nevertheless. ‘How long have you and your wife been with Dr Labey’s practice?’

‘About two years now. We first came here just before Sally told me she was pregnant with our eldest.’

‘And what do you think of him?’

‘Sally is always saying how great she thinks he is. She never seems to stop talking about him and how much he did for her in her first pregnancy. She won’t hear a bad word about him either, insists we keep coming to him even with everything people are saying about the women who died.’

‘Do you think he killed them?’ I was taken aback by Holmes’ bluntness and Gleeson seemed to be as well.

‘I- Well sir, I am not a police officer nor an investigator such as yourself but if what they are saying is true, if he is the only thing connecting those two women, then it seems the most obvious conclusion.’

Holmes nodded, not looking at Gleeson. I could almost see the gears turning in his mind as he processed everything Gleeson had said.

‘Yes, that would be the obvious conclusion,’ he said finally, then ‘Why do you keep coming back if you think he might be a murderer?’

Gleeson shook his head, ‘I told you. Sally won’t hear it. But if anything else happens then even Sally will have to admit it isn’t safe around him no matter how fond of him she is. And in that case it will only be a matter of time before he’s carted off to jail and she won’t be able to see him anyway.’

‘Thank you Mr Gleeson, you have been most helpful.’

Gleeson nodded but his thick eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Holmes walked over to me and looked as though he was about to speak when the door opened behind us and Luetta Bunan and Sally Gleeson walked out. Luetta turned to Mr Gleeson, ‘Your little one’s fine, just an over worried mother. Go home and make sure Mrs Gleeson gets some rest.’

‘Thank you Mrs Bunan,’ said Sally. She turned to her husband who shook his head. I did not know what he wanted to say to her and I never got to find out because at that moment Dr Labey walked out, a young woman I had not met before at his side.

‘Mr Gleeson? Sally? Whatever are you doing here?’

Gleeson put his arm around Sally’s waist, ‘Sally was feeling a little concerned about the baby but Mrs Bunan took care of it.’

‘Ah, well I trust Mrs Bunan to do a good job but, Sally, if you find yourself worrying again about anything at all do come straight back and I’ll take care of you.’

Gleeson tightened his grip around his wife, ‘I will keep that in mind doctor.’

With that Gleeson led Sally out and Labey’s other patient took her leave. Labey turned his attention to Holmes and I.

‘Dr Watson, Mr Holmes,’ his smile did not meet his eyes, ‘You are here. I hope you have not been waiting long. I am with patients all morning I’m afraid.’

‘Do not worry Dr Labey,’ said Holmes, ‘I was actually hoping to speak to your staff this morning. Sometimes they pick up on things other people do not pay attention to. I have already had a very informative conversation with Mrs Bunan.’

Labey looked to Luetta then back to us. He was no longer smiling. ‘I see. I hope you have not been keeping Luetta from her work.

‘I assume you will be wanting to speak to the other nurses.’

‘If that would be agreeable.’

Labey nodded, but he did not seem to have heard Holmes. He adjusted his spectacles, ‘I have two other nurses here; Miss Lettie Guillan and Miss Monica Small. There are no other staff who regularly visit the clinic, I mostly see to my own affairs. Both of the nurses are working upstairs in the first floor clinic this morning. You may talk to them if you think it would somehow help with your investigation but please do not interfere with their work.’

‘Of course.’

‘Luetta, please send my next patient in when she arrives,’ said Labey, already walking away.

* * *

MISS Lettie Guillan and Miss Monica Small were a study of contrast. The former was a young, thin woman, tall in stature for a woman with curls of dark hair falling across a light brown face from beneath her bonnet. The latter was a short but robust woman, almost as wide as she was tall, her fair hair was neatly pulled back out of her pale face so it could barely be seen beneath her bonnet. Despite their physical differences however they could not have more similar in nature.

It quickly became clear that Mrs Luetta Bunan had been under emphasising her role in keeping the nurses in order. Dr Labey was reportedly too busy with patients to see to the general running of the clinic and Miss Lettie and Miss Monica both frivolous women and relentless gossips. It appeared they both did the work required of them to a decent standard but were more concerned with other people’s business than their own.

They were also very close, we learnt, both living together in a small flat a short distance from the clinic itself and spending most of their time together even when it was not required of them. In a way their relationship reminded me of Holmes and I, or maybe what I wished we were.

Holmes spoke with Miss Lettie and I with Miss Monica. Regardless of the interest I had in their relationship it seemed there was very little which she could contribute to our investigation. She confirmed what I had already been told; Dr Labey was a good doctor and most of his patients, who were primarily female, were very fond of him, he sometimes saw patients after hours though that was not unusual for a doctor who was as committed to his patients as I had observed Labey to be.

It was nearing the end of our interview that she said something of much more interest.

‘Is there anything else I might know?’ I had asked her.

‘Well there is one thing Dr Watson, but it isn’t really something one should be heard saying about her employer.’

‘You are safe in telling me Miss Monica, I can assure you.’

The girl hesitated at first but when she spoke it was with the confidence one would expect from a true gossip, ‘There are rumours, people like to talk you know especially about people who do well for themselves. Well, people see Dr Labey getting on very well with all these young women he’s treating and seeing them after hours in his apartments,’ - I recalled the bed; a double for a single man - ‘and they talk.’

‘Speak plainly Miss.’

‘There are rumours that Dr Labey has had affairs with some of his patients. Including, now that I think of it, those two poor girls who died. What were their names again? Miss Greta and Miss Eleanore?’

I was taken aback. Admittedly I had felt less certain of Dr Labey’s character after my visit to his rooms the previous day but this was something else entirely.

I thanked the young lady and excused myself.

Over lunch Holmes and I discussed our interviews with the two nurses and I informed him of what Miss Monica had said.

When I finished he nodded to himself, ‘Yes, Miss Lettie told me something very similar. Things are starting to fall into place.’

‘You have a theory?’

‘Yes and I shall tell you as soon as I am sure.

‘Miss Lettie Guillan also told me something else of interest. She said there were also rumours about Dr Labey’s relationship with Mrs Gregory Gleeson whom we met this morning. Some have gone so far as to imply that babe she carries is not her husband’s.’

‘That is quite an accusation,’ said I.

‘Yes, it is. And most important.

‘Now let me tell you what we will do next.’

* * *

WE returned to the clinic in the early evening. The town was dark, lit only by streetlamps and light that streamed out between the curtains of the surrounding houses. Even the stars were blocked out by thick clouds. A gentle snowfall drifted down, lightly coating the cobbled roads and the slate roofs of the Georgian houses lining them.

It did not seem the kind of setting for a murder.

That was what Holmes had said would happen at the hotel before we left that evening; ‘There will be one more attack. One that will most likely happen tonight.’

So now there we were, waiting in the cold on the steps of one of the terraced Bath stone houses just down the street from the clinic. Holmes’ eyes never left the clinic’s door though I could not have said with any certainty exactly what he was waiting for.

The cold seeped through my clothing and into my skin and I pulled my coat more tightly around myself. I wondered when whatever Holmes was waiting for would happen.

I felt rather than saw Holmes tense beside me and looked round. Two figures had exited Dr Labey’s clinic, one tall and thin and the other short and rotund, both wearing long dresses and bonnets. Lettie Guillan and Monica Small I was sure.

They walked down the street side by side then paused and appeared to look around. They must not have seen Holmes and I watching from the shadows as a moment later Miss Monica Small reached up and kissed Miss Lettie Guillan. Holmes barely seemed to blink at the display of romantic affection between the two women, I however felt as though I was intruding on an intimate moment. I looked away but the women soon parted and continued on their way.

Some time passed. I could not say exactly how long but it felt like hours to me. Holmes continued to watch the house. The cold numbed my fingers and snow settled on my coat and hat. The clinic door opened again.

This time a lone figure left the building. She appeared to be a young woman, though it was hard to make out her features in the dark and through the snow. She walked down the street toward us. Holmes was on edge, I noticed him slip a hand into his pocket but there was no time to think on it.

As the woman passed a side street another figure approached her and grabbed at her. I heard her cry from across the road. Holmes was already running that way. I followed, slower than he with my cane.

It should not have surprised me that Holmes had brought his revolver given the nature of the crime we had come to investigate but my heart stilled when I saw him pull the weapon from his pocket. He pointed it at the man and I felt a visceral sense of fear, while it was possible he could shoot the attacker without hitting the woman the man already had a hold of her and she was struggling, moving too much to give him a clear target. Holmes had clearly accounted for the risk. He did not shoot the attacker but pointed his weapon at a nearby building. The explosion filled the quiet street and I felt dizzy.

The bullet may not have hit anything but the wall but it was enough to scare off the attacker. He threw the girl to the ground and ran back down the street which he came from. I went to chase him but between my limp and his head start it was a lost cause.

‘Do not worry my dear sir,’ called Holmes as I returned to the scene, ‘We have him now.’

He turned to the woman, ‘Are you alright Miss?’

‘It’s Mrs,’ she said, standing. Her nose scrunched up as she frowned at my companion.

‘I apologise Mrs Bunan but I see you are alright after all.’

She did not answer for just then another man arrived on the scene. He was bare headed and out of breath from running.

‘Luetta?’

The nurse just about fell into Dr Labey’s arms. ‘I heard a gunshot. Are you okay?’

‘Perhaps Dr Labey,’ interrupted Holmes, ‘We should all return to the clinic. I think it is time for the truth of this dark business to come to light.’

* * *

THERE was a feeling of trepidation in the air as we arrived back at Dr Labey’s clinic. Labey showed us to his main office; it was significantly nicer than either his personal apartments or the other smaller office where Holmes had spoken to Luetta Bunan. Bookshelves lined one wall, there was a desk in one corner, and there were two couches positioned facing each other in another. A fire was burning and a book was left open on the desk next to a half-full cup of tea.

Labey guided Luetta to sit on one of the couches and fussed over her for a little longer than was perhaps necessary before turning to the two of us. I took a seat opposite her, my leg was aching from the cold and the earlier chase. The tension in the room was heavy and it seemed no one wanted to break it. Except Luetta apparently.

‘I know what you’re thinking Mr Holmes,’ said she.

Everybody in the room turned to face her.

‘Pray tell Mrs Bunan.’

‘You think Dr Labey is responsible for these crimes but I can assure you he is not. He was not the man who attacked me tonight nor could he have hurt Miss Lamb or Miss Mahon. He would never hurt me. He-’ she hesitated but only for a moment, ‘He loves me.’

‘Ah.’

‘Is that all you have to say Sir?’

‘I had suspected.’

‘Do you hear what I am telling you sir? James is innocent!’

‘Luetta-’ Labey himself started to speak but was interrupted by my companion.

‘I agree Mrs Bunan.

‘Dr Labey is entirely innocent of the crimes which he has been accused.’

Before Holmes could explain there was a knock at the door.

‘That will be the police I imagine. Someone will certainly have sent for them with all the noise we were making earlier. Watson, I see you are needing to rest right now. Mrs Bunan as you are uninjured perhaps you could show them in and we can bring this whole matter to a close.’

A minute later two police officers had joined us in the office. One glared at Labey who looked nervous, then looked between Holmes and I.

‘I am sorry to disturb you gentlemen at such a late hour but there was a report that some trouble had occurred here.’

‘Not at all,’ said Holmes, ‘We were just waiting for you to arrive.’

‘You were?’

‘Sherlock Holmes,’ Holmes shook the officer’s hand, ‘ I am here with my companion Dr Watson and I believe we have just solved the murders your people have just been harassing poor Dr Labey over.

‘Watson, I assume you have come to the same conclusions as I have?’

I had not. I thought about everything Holmes had told me and which I had observed over the past few days but could not think what conclusion my companion had drawn. Holmes seemed to read my mind because he continued as such:

‘Very well. I shall explain to you as well.’ Holmes took as seat beside me and invited the officers to sit also. They declined.

‘It became apparent early in my investigation that there were two possibilities. The first seemed to be the simplest explanation; that Dr Labey had been lying to us and was in fact responsible for or at least involved in these crimes which begs the question why would a man such as Dr Labey do something so sinister? The second possibility was that, if we assumed Dr Labey was not responsible, it was probable that somebody was committing these crimes in an attempt to target him. The question then would be who and for what purpose.

‘There are some unsavoury rumours concerning Dr Labey. The two nurses, Miss Lettie Guillan and Miss Monica Small, were happy to share these with Dr Watson and myself. Do not be too harsh on the young ladies Mrs Bunan, what they told us was most important to identifying the motive behind these crimes. In fact from these rumours two suspects and their motives were identified.

‘The first of these rumours was of course that Dr Labey was having affairs with the deceased. But more interesting is the rumour that he is currently having an affair with Mrs Gregory Gleeson who it has been suggested is carrying his child. Such affairs would create motive for Dr Labey: shutting down these rumours and removing any evidence of truth they may have.

‘The other suspect was the husband. I had the opportunity to speak to Mr Gleeson early this morning, he was a possessive and jealous man with no fondness for Dr Labey. His motive was clear. If someone were targeting the doctor it would be this man; the rumours of the affair combined with the doubts of his child’s parentage made me sure of that.

‘With these two possibilities in mind there was a simple means to determine the truth. There would be one more attack. If Gleeson was responsible then he had told me himself it would require one more death linked to Labey for him to convince Mrs Gleeson and, he had hoped, the police that Dr Labey was a murderer. If Dr Labey was in fact a killer then he would wish to remove the other woman he was rumoured of having an affair with from the picture.

‘From there one could reason that if Mrs Gleeson was attacked Dr Labey was likely responsible, whereas if another woman with an indisputable connection to the doctor was the victim then Gleeson was almost certainly the attacker.

‘This evening Mrs Luetta Bunan was attacked by a man not far from this clinic.

‘I cannot believe Dr Labey would ever target the woman who is of such great importance to him - in the management of his clinic that is - but if that was not enough I can confirm that it is impossible that he was her attacker.’

‘And why is that?’ one of the officers asked.

‘Because I witnessed the attack myself and the man I saw was almost half a metre taller than and twice as broad as Dr Labey.

‘In either case I am almost certain Gleeson will confess when confronted with his crimes. Any man who would choose to target young women and see an innocent man hanged rather than challenge the source of his grievance is certainly a coward.’

With that the police were satisfied and left to arrest Gleeson. I however was not satisfied; there were still questions left unanswered.

Holmes must had suspected my thoughts, as he often did, for he asked then; ‘Is something the matter Watson?’

I turned to Holmes, ‘I doubt it is of much importance now but I noticed not all of our questions had been answered.’

‘Hm?’

‘I mean you no offence Dr Labey, but I had the impression earlier in our investigation that you were not being entirely honest with us.’

The man in question seemed to grow paler, if that was possible pale as he already was. He tensed in his position beside his lover.

‘Ah,’ said Holmes, ‘I was wondering if you had remembered all that. It is nothing.’

‘Excuse me?’

Holmes turned to Labey, ‘I apologise doctor. Dr Watson noticed a few things in your rooms yesterday afternoon which seemed rather out of the ordinary - a side effect of spending too much time around myself.

‘He was under the impression that you were lying to us about your accommodations. Part of his deductions were right but of course his conclusion was not.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Labey asked, his already high voice rising an octave with his high nerves. Luetta took his hand in her own.

‘You see Dr Watson was correct in his belief that the shaving kit on your dresser - which you have had for some time but have clearly never used - was placed there for appearances but not for the reason he believed.

‘I take it that as, although it is uncommon, it has been acceptable for women to become physicians since - if I recall the year correctly - 1876, I am safe in assuming you are a man.’

Labey nodded stiffly and Holmes smiled. I did not understand at first, but then I looked between him and Labey and saw what I had not before.

I had since not long after meeting Holmes been aware of the condition of his birth, that is to say his “birth gender”. It had mattered little to me after getting to know him but I understood it was of great importance to him and highly sensitive that it not be shared outside of Holmes’ closest friends.

‘How did you know?’ Labey asked, holding tightly to Luetta’s hand. It was a good thing he did so for she looked ready to jump up and attack my friend. I wondered if I would respond in kind if someone had accused Holmes of being anything but the man he was - I was certain I would.

‘I am more observant than the average man,’ said he, ‘And of course it is easier to recognise one’s own kin.’

A look of confusion then of realisation crossed Labey’s face.

‘And your secret is safe with us. Right Watson?’

‘Yes!’ I agreed, more enthusiastically than might have been necessary, ‘And you may trust that I shan’t publish this case as I have done with others in the past. I have been Sherlock’s companion for some time and I understand the importance of secrecy in this matter.’

We left Dr Labey’s clinic shortly after. I hoped that he and Luetta might find peace now that the unpleasantness had been dealt with.

* * *

IT was as we were walking back to our hotel that something else occurred to me. I thought of Dr James Labey who was in many ways the same as my dear friend but who had found love, albeit in secret, and I thought of Holmes and myself.

I stopped walking.

Holmes noticed immediately and turned to me. ‘Are you alright Watson? Is it your leg?’

‘My leg is fine, at least no worse than it usually is. I was just thinking.’

‘A dangerous business,’ He smiled.

I attempted to smile back but apparently it was not as effective as I hoped it might be for Holmes frowned and said, ‘Whatever is the matter my dear sir?’

I took a deep breath to steady myself, the cold night air filling my lungs.

‘I have feelings for you.

‘I know.’

I shook my head; he did not understand.  _ ‘Romantic  _ feelings.’

‘I know.’

Oh.

‘I just had thought, seeing Dr Labey and his lover together and so close-’

‘I know what you were thinking Watson. I know in many ways Dr Labey and I are the same but not in this.

‘I have no desire for that. Companionship? Yes! But romance? Sex? It is not me.’

I do not know whether the hand he placed on my shoulder as he said it made the words hurt more or less.

‘I care deeply about you my dear Watson. I hope you will stay my companion even if I cannot be something more for you.

His face was the picture of earnestness. I nodded. We walked on.

* * *

IN truth, I do not know why I record this tale. It could never be published but after putting it all on paper I feel a sense of catharsis. Perhaps looking back on that conversation with Sherlock was what this was all about.

I feel I am at peace with our relationship now. It still hurts a little, any rejection would, but he and I have only grown closer without the obstacle of my unspoken affections. I remain his companion but have resolved that when my heart has had some time to heal I shall look for romantic love elsewhere. I am just happy to have a man such as Holmes in my life and as my dear friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed. Please comment if you did.
> 
> For clarity here're the modern terms for some of the characters queer identities:
> 
> Sherlock Holmes - trans man, aroace  
John Watson - bisexual  
James Labey - trans man  
Lettie Guillan - lesbian  
Monica Small - lesbian
> 
> Fun fact: Dr Labey was inspired by a real life nineteenth century transgender doctor: Dr James Barry.


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